Never Surrender: Chapter One
by StargateGirlAlways3000
Summary: Sam brings John back to life. Dean's changed since he's become immortal. Sam isn't happy under Hercules' leadership. Lucifer haunts Sam's mind. John and Sam embark on a quest to stop Lucifer while Ares embarks on a plan to kill Castiel and use Dean as a foot soldier in a new, terrifying war. Hercules and Iolaus try to stop him-only to encounter enraged angels and demons. Sequel.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It began with a flash of light. The light was key. Night surrounded the cemetery. A recently dug up grave flashed in the white light. The tombstone was simple. It read: Here lies John Winchester. Hunter and father. An open coffin sat beneath Sam Winchester's feet. In an instant, a tall and dark man stood before him.  
John Winchester stood there for a moment, lost and blinking in the flashlight's bright shine. The man stared at his youngest son and cleared his throat, as if it were difficult to speak.  
"Son?" His deep voice was a thin whisper. "Is that you?"  
"I'm here Dad," Sam reassured him, "you're alive again!"  
"You save me from hell," John acknowledged, "where's Dean?"  
Sam winced at the thought of his older brother. "Around. He doesn't exactly know that I'm here with you. He's—he's a little different now, Dad."  
A little more than a year ago, his brother had become an immortal Greek God. He had passed down the Impala to Sam, due to the fact that he teleported everywhere now. Sam had planned this moment carefully, under everyone else's noses. Not even Hercules was suspicious of what he had been planning for an entire year. During the battle with the King of Hell, a demon called Crowley, he had discovered an ancient book with spells in it. It had a spell for bringing the dead back to life.  
Sam studied and memorized the spell under their noses. He had survived the last battle with Crowley, but he had been injured. As he lay on the ground, the book appeared. He placed it under his coat in the jacket's hidden pocket and never breathed a word about it to anyone. He now lived with three immortals—and they all called Hercules' little church home for now. They traveled from case to case together, solving the problems of the oncoming apocalypse one fight at a time.  
But the seals were still being broken, and they had their own problems. Iolaus had a hard time adjusting to the modern world, while Dean had illusions of grandeur now that he had eaten ambrosia. He wasn't as fun loving as he had been. He hung out with Ares on a regular basis, and Sam was convinced that Ares was a bit manipulative. Hercules struggled to keep everyone happy and balanced as much as he could.  
Sam had some issues being under Hercules' leadership. The immortal was a bit of a showoff at times and thought he knew everything. Sam was thinking of leaving the group. He had been for a while now. He hoped John would come with him, and help him with the fact that the devil had been visiting him for a while now. Lucifer wanted to break free from the underworld and he was tormenting his chosen vessel—Sam Winchester.  
Another flash of blue light illuminated the cemetery. Dean Winchester appeared, clearly unamused at this new situation.  
"Sammy," he began haughtily, "what have you done?"  
"Hello son," John greeted, "I'm glad to see you boys survived. How did you get here, Dean?"  
"He's a God now," Sam informed his father, "Hercules made him a Greek God to stop the angels from claiming his soul."  
"Hercules?" John parried. "The father of hunting?"  
"You knew about that?" Sam wondered, amazed. "Why didn't you ever tell us?"  
"I didn't think you'd believe me," John confessed, "I'm freezing."  
"The impala's around the corner." Sam suggested.  
"I have something better," Dean muttered, "here."  
With a snap of his fingers, a fire pit appeared. There was a spark of light and flames danced into the night sky. John stared at his son.  
"You are a Greek God," John said, "I don't know how to feel about this, son. It's not something to take lightly."  
"I don't need your approval anymore Dad," Dean snapped back, "I'm not your errand boy anymore!"  
"He's changed," Sam interrupted, "how did you find me, Dean?"  
"I've got you on radar," Dean informed him, "I don't think Herc will approve of this."  
Sam glared at him. "I don't care, I'm leaving the group, Dean."  
"What?" Dean countered. "Why would you do that—we're Earth's best hope!"  
"I'm not immortal like the rest of you, Dean." Sam explained. "I don't belong. Dad doesn't belong. Just let us go?"  
"You're leaving too, Dad?" Dean asked, clearly upset despite being immortal. "They would still accept you!"  
"I'm going with Sam," John decided, "he's right. I wouldn't live up to their standards."  
"Fine," Dean sighed, "Don't expect to me to protect you! I've got my own problems. What do mortals know, anyways?"  
With a flash of blue light, Dean disappeared into thin air. Sam sighed a breath of relief.  
"Dad?" Sam said as they sat by the fire.  
"Yeah?" John returned.  
"I'm glad you're back."  
"It's good to be here." John agreed. "I'd like to see the impala."  
Sam nodded and left the warmth of the fire pit. John followed him to an old dirt road. The had chosen a small, uncrowded place to bury their father. The impala sat underneath a large willow tree. Sam opened the passenger door for his father. It was good to be in the presence of another mortal man. While he had never had the best relationship with his father, he felt this could be a turning point. Besides, he needed help fighting Lucifer.  
As he started the car, a familiar voice rang inside his head. A vision of a blond man filled his mind. Lucifer stared back at him from somewhere beneath the ground, in a world beyond the world of man.  
"Nice going, kid." Lucifer gloated. "You're that much closer to becoming my vessel. If you accept my offer, I can bring back your mother. You know that spell is only good for one soul a century!"  
"I'll find another way," Sam insisted, "You're still trapped. You're not as powerful yet!"  
"Every day you carry that book," Lucifer intoned, "you get closer. You play with the forces of hell. The next spell you do might unlock the door—-and then I will be free."  
"I can handle it," Sam replied, "I'm using it for something good."  
"That's what you think," Lucifer deadpanned, "but it's still a force of darkness. You belong to the darkness, Sammy. The boy with the demon blood!"  
"I belong to the light," Sam answered, "Castiel, help me!"  
The vision ended with a blur of light. Sam breathed in a deep breath, afraid to move for a moment. The visions seemed so real. John stared back at him with concern on his face.  
"Are you alright son?" John asked. "You zoned out for a few minutes there."  
"I've got a problem Dad," Sam explained, "I was hoping you could help me out here. I didn't want to say anything to Dean—or anyone else—-I don't think they would come up with a solution I liked. They tend to be geared towards immortality."  
As Sam drove off into the night, he began to tell his father about the visions of Lucifer, the battle against Dahak's followers, and the battle with Crowley. His father listened with rapt attention, soaking in every word he spoke. He told him about every case he'd worked on with their new leader—and how some of them ended better than others. He told him that traveling with immortals was becoming unnerving, because he had to be human for all of them. They did help everyone they met, there was no doubt about that—but they could also be big for their britches.  
Sam talked about his brother. He told him about Dean and the way he was now. How he'd become full of pride and arrogance. Being immortal had definitely changed him. He still cared about people—-that hadn't changed—but it was the way he went about it that changed. He never hurt like he did before. Sam said to his father that he was less human now—and more like Ares. Sam hoped he could change that, but he needed to deal with Lucifer first.  
"I understand son," John said, "I read ancient stores about the Greek Gods. They were cruel and petty. Hercules spent his whole life fighting against them, hoping to change them. Then the war with angels came and they were wiped out—except Hercules and Ares. They survived."  
"You know the history then," Sam concluded, "good. So how do we stop Lucifer?"  
"There's another book like the one you found in Crowley's layer. A book of light—filled with ancient magic. We have to find it. I once read that in it was a spell to kill the devil."  
"Alright," Sam agreed. "So where are we going?"  
"That's easy," John said, "we need to go to the Library of Congress. The government's kept this under wraps for years, but I have a guy I know that works there. He's a hunter too. His name's Matt Hansen."  
"DC it is," Sam's heart fluttered with hope, "let's hope Dean doesn't get wind of this."  
"It's a little hard to get off a God's radar," John said, "but we can just not advertise what we're doing. He seemed pretty upset. I bet he'll ignore us for a while."  
The impala raced down the road, headed east towards the coast. They would be in Washington D.C. by sundown. The race was on.

Dean Winchester appeared in a mansion outside of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It was Ares' chosen home, because he valued the bloodshed of the civil war. The young God was naive at best. Ares found him to be a little annoying, but he would serve his purpose. Ares had taken him under his wing. In a way, Dean reminded him of Strife, except the Winchester was certainly more adept at life than his former protege. Strife had died at the hands of Callisto two millennia ago.  
Ares waited for his new protege patiently. Dean needed to be schooled on how Greek Gods did things. Hercules was naive and always had been. Iolaus was his errand boy. Dean needed a real Greek God. One that had been around before Hercules and since the Titans had ruled the earth. He approached Dean and motioned for him to join him at his feast.  
Ares had a feast every night. While he no longer had worshippers anymore, he did hire professional cooks and servants. He paid them well and they brought him everything he wanted. It was not like Ancient Greece anymore, but he still found ways to be treated like the God he was. Dean sat at the opposite end of the table. The new immortal always had something to cry about. Ares anticipated his whining before he began.  
"Sam did something bad tonight," Dean informed him, "he brought my father back to life. I don't know how he did it—he did it under my nose. They took off together. Sam left the group tonight."  
"He's mortal," Ares deadpanned, "he's probably just miserable and lonely since he's the only one of you lot that's mortal. You don't need him, Dean."  
Ares thought Sam was weak for not chasing immortality. Dean was too concerned with him. He needed to be helping Ares with his next task—-getting revenge on Castiel and his angel kinfolk. They killed the goddess Discard. They tried to kill him—but Ares' had outsmarted them all and survived the bloody last battle. He was the only original god that did. Zeus had the nerve to make his demigod brother immortal in his last act. Hercules never let him forget it. His brother would not approve of his plan to trap Castiel and use him as bait for the other angels.  
Ares would steal their grace—-all of it—and use it for himself. If Dean helped him with his plan, he would even give some grace to Dean. The grace would bring the immortal peace. Ares wanted the power to start a war with hell. If he conquered heaven and hell, he would reign for all eternity. The thought excited. He would be worshipped once more—by all living creatures as king. He had the ability of time travel, though he wasn't fond of using it.  
"Sam's always been there for me," Dean insisted, "he's my brother."  
"A brother that abandoned you," Ares concluded rudely, "what you need is a plan."  
"A plan for what?" Dean asked.  
"You don't need mortals, Dean," Ares began, "what you need is grace."  
"Grace?" Dean wondered, obviously confused. "Why would I need that?"  
"Because it would bring you the one thing you don't have as a God," Ares said, "It would give you peace."  
"How would I get grace?" Dean wondered. "Only angels have grace."  
"Exactly. And what angel do we know that likes to lurk around?" Ares intoned.  
"Castiel?" Dean stared at him. "I won't do anything to Castiel, he's my friend."  
"Is he?" Ares quarried. "His kind hates our kind, Dean. He's plotting against you."  
What Dean did not know was that Ares had mastered the art of manipulation powers. He could persuade Dean without his knowledge that he was doing so. He often did it with other Gods. What followed was a series of lies about Castiel. Ares told Dean that he discovered that Castiel had sold him out to other angels, and that they must capture the angel and bring him here without Hercules' or Iolaus' knowledge.  
Dean agreed in the end, believing he was doing the right thing, unaware of the power Ares' had installed over him during the last year. It was an old trick, but one that always worked. By dawn, Castiel would be their prisoner. Ares smiled as Dean teleported away, on his mission to trap the angel in Greek weapons—forged during the war. The race was on. Ares had both Winchesters out of the way now. That only left his brother. But as long as Dean completed the task on his own, it should work out. Ares' plan was coming into realization. It was about time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The fish were plentiful. The river was cold since it was winter, but Iolaus still wanted to fish. Sam had shown him how to use a modern fishing pole, but it did not feel right in his hands. Iolaus had crafted an ancient fishing pole with his own two hands. It was made of wood and had a metal spear on the end of it. He stood in the stream and watched for fish. A fish swam by his feet.  
With great precision, Iolaus thrusted the pole into the water and struck the fish on its side. It came up limp. Iolaus smiled to himself, grateful to be away from the noise of the modern world. Everything moved so fast now. The cars were loud and everyone was in a constant hurry. He needed time to himself sometimes, away from the monsters and the others. Being immortal took adjustment. He would always be in this world now.  
He had not let his immortality change him. Dean had also become immortal, and Iolaus could see the change in him daily. He wondered what had happened to the young God. The young immortal was full of pride and arrogance. He did not find interest in things he once enjoyed. Iolaus was determined to use his own immortality for good. He had been an old hunter in the ancient world.  
Now he hunted with Hercules once again, but he had to use modern weapons and new training. The monsters of today were not the same as they were during Iolaus' own time on Earth. He hated the feel of the gun in his hand. It was too brutal a weapon in his mind, so he refused to use them and still carried a sword in his hands. Hercules had given him the sword of Perseus. He wielded it expertly.  
Footsteps in the woods caught his attention. He smiled again, instantly recognizing the sound of his best friend's feet lightly stepping on broken branches so not to startle Iolaus.  
"You've got quite a pile here," Hercules motioned to the pile of fish on the ground, "using the old way, I see."  
"I like fishing this way," Iolaus said as he climbed out of the river, "it's more relaxing. What are you doing here?"  
"Sam seems to have left us," Hercules replied, "and I had a vision of his father. I think he's been using dark magic behind our backs. Dean didn't say anything about his father, but he did say something about Sam leaving."  
Iolaus frowned in thought. "Sam doesn't think he belongs with us. I think he has a hard time being the only mortal among us."  
"He told you this?" Hercules asked.  
"I can sense it." Iolaus confirmed as he gathered up the fish in a net.  
"You were always intuitive," Hercules replied, "Dean is upset, although he doesn't want to admit it. I think Sam brought his father back to life."  
"What do you plan to do about it?" Iolaus asked.  
"At the moment?" Hercules began. "Nothing. There's nothing I can do. If Sam's using dark forces to accomplish his goals, that's a consequence he'll have to face on his own."  
A flash of white light interrupted their conversation. Castiel appeared before them, with a large wound in his side. His hands were bound with chains. Hercules approached the fallen angel.  
"Castiel," Hercules called, "what's happened?"  
"Dean!" Castiel croaked as he lay on the ground in pain. "He struck me with a strange knife. Then he placed these chains on me. I managed to get away, but I can't get them off. I feel myself being taken somewhere else—I needed to warn you!"  
"Why would Dean do something like this?" Iolaus asked as he tried to remove the angel's chains. Hercules tried to heal his wound, but nothing happened.  
"This is a Greek weapon," Hercules informed them, "There's only one person that could have it. ARES!" He bellowed into the wilderness.  
Castiel began to flicker out of existence. Hercules held onto his hands, trying to stop the teleportation. It was futile. Castiel flickered out of sight, crying in pain as he was pulled away from them. Iolaus watched him go with fury in his heart. Dean had betrayed them.  
"Our group is splintering," Hercules told him as they ran towards the old church, "Ares is behind this."  
"What's he up to now?" Iolaus wondered.  
They reached the church and went inside. It was well lived in now. There was furniture and beds. They even had a television set and a stereo. Iolaus never got out of breath now when he ran. He could run forever and not get tired. They gathered up their weapons. Hercules held thunderbolts in his hands and Iolaus gathered up his sword. They vanished in a flash of light.  
When they reappeared, they were standing before a sprawling mansion near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. A monster awaited them. A black, two headed beast with a long neck roared at them.  
"It's a Hydra!" Iolaus said as he dodged the creature's angry swipe. "Where did Ares get a Hydra from?"  
Hercules sprang into action, throwing a thunderbolt at the large creature. The Hydra cried out and disintegrated. A flash of blue light caught their attention. Ares stood before them, with a knife in his right hand.  
"I knew you'd come for Castiel," Ares said, "but who will you save—the angel or Iolaus?"  
With a flick of his hand, the knife soared through the air before Iolaus had time to act. The knife pierced his side. Iolaus felt the immortality draining from his body. He collapsed to the ground, unable to move. Ares vanished in a flash of light.  
"Ioalus!" Hercules cried. "It's hinds blood. Here, I have to remove the knife."  
Iolaus gritted his teeth. Hercules reached down to his side and yanked on the knife. Another Hydra emerged from the darkness.  
"Another time," Hercules said, "I have to heal you first."  
Hercules gathered Iolaus' into his arms. They teleported to a nearby hotel. Hercules lay Iolaus on the bed and placed his hands onto his side. The wound began to heal. Iolaus felt weak. His side burned with pain.  
"It's going to take some time to heal you fully," Hercules lamented, "you need to rest."  
Iolaus fell into a fitful sleep, concerned for his angel friend and concerned for Dean. They would have to save them both.

Castiel lay in a large room on the cold, stone floor. Pain radiated throughout his body. His grace was leaving him. Ares towered over him, absorbing the grace leaking out of his wound. Dean stood in the corner, watching with disgust on his face. Castiel would try to save him from Ares' control.  
"Dean," Castiel croaked, "I pulled you out of the grave!"  
Dean tilted his head, but did not move. "You betrayed us! You're ushering in the apocalypse with Michael!"  
Castiel blinked at him, a little surprised by the accusation. Clearly the God of War had been feeding him lies to further his own twisted agenda. The angels had gone to war with the Greek Gods for a reason: they were petty and cruel. They tormented mankind. Castiel felt more strength draining from his body. It hurt. He had never felt such pain. Ares was taking his life—and his friend was helping him.  
He felt betrayed. He had stuck his neck out for the Winchesters on more than one occasion. They were his companions. Dean had let his immortality change him. He had let Ares' manipulate and control him. Castiel had to make Dean see the error of his ways.  
"Dean, you're my friend." He whispered desperately. "Set me free!"  
"I could make it so you can't talk," Ares threatened as he finally stepped away from the fallen angel, "so watch your mouth."  
Dean looked at him with doubt on his handsome face. "I think that's enough for now, Ares."  
"Wow," Ares said as he flexed his muscles, "what a rush! Imagine what all their grace will feel like, Dean!"  
Ares was drunk on power. Castiel used his remaining strength to send a message to Michael. He hoped he had enough power left so that the other angel could hear it. Castiel tried to breath deeply, but all he could manage were shallow, labored breaths of exhaustion. Ares smiled wickedly at him and walked into the other room, leaving him alone with Dean.  
"Dean," Castiel began, "it hurts to breath. Set me free!"  
Something cracked in Dean's features. He approached Castiel slowly, as if he was unsure of him.  
"I can help your breathing, I think." Dean reassured him. "But you're staying here. It will solve the problem of the apocalypse, Cas."  
"No it won't," he replied, "Ares has you fooled!"  
"You're the one that wants to start a war between us," Dean accused him, "he needs your grace for oncoming fight!"  
Dean placed his hands on Castiel's chest. His breathing eased and the pain in his side subsided. "There. That's all I can manage—healing an angel is exhausting!"  
"Set me free, Dean." Castiel said gently, trying to appeal to his better nature.  
Dean Winchester had to be in there somewhere underneath all of that newfound power. Castiel just had to find it. The fact that he had healed him gave him hope. Maybe with enough time, Castiel could save Dean from his dark fate. He would not survive a war with angels. They had the power to kill gods like him. They had wiped out an entire God class all over the world when heaven was created.  
"I'm not feeling so hot," Dean confessed, "I think I'll go rest a while."  
His own breathing was labored now. Immortals were not meant to heal angels. Castiel hoped some of his humanity would return. Dean walked out of the room. Castiel lay on the floor, still in pain and misery. Castiel hoped his friends would find him. 


End file.
